


My heart is under arrest again

by ember_firedrake



Series: Let me see you in your darkness [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Feelings, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7528531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>A small part of himself whispered he could have gotten Silver to agree to stay more readily if he had only been honest. If he'd told Silver he </i>needed<i> him. For more than just aid in securing Nassau’s future. That a small, selfish, shameful part of him </i>wanted<i> Silver, and wished to be wanted in return. </i></p>
<p>A follow-up to "You're the secret I desire." Set after 2x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My heart is under arrest again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistflarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistflarden/gifts).



There was a buzzing beneath Flint’s skin that had not abated for several days. Longer, if he was being honest with himself. The risks of opening himself up to John Silver seemed to far outweigh the benefits of their mutually enjoyed physical company. And yet…

_Until next time, Mr. Silver,_ Flint had told him, needing to collect himself and bolster his own mental defenses against the part of him that had longed to reach out, to comfort John, to kiss him. And even the fact that he now thought of the man as _John_ was troublesome, proof of how deeply the man had ingrained himself in Flint’s subconscious. There hadn't been the opportunity for a _next time_ in the days following, as they'd arrived back at Nassau to find Charles Vane controlling the fort, and thoughts of this growing affinity had been pushed down to address the new threat. 

That hadn't stopped John from insinuating himself by Flint’s side, first on the beach as they took in the situation in Nassau, and later in his cabin while Flint discussed tactics with Hornigold. Silver lounging on the window bench as though his presence in the room was necessary—and the worst of it was, Flint found himself preternaturally aware of Silver within the room. His back may have been turned on the man, but he could sense Silver’s movements, his moods, even his bloody breathing. That was the only reason Flint could tell for why he had sought Silver’s counsel after Captain Hornigold and Mr. Scott left. Silver had seemed just as surprised to be asked his opinion, and if there was a flash of disappointment in his eyes that Flint didn't have _other_ pursuits in mind, Silver hid it quickly. 

But John—no, _Silver_ —had proved too clever by half once again, perceiving the heart of Flint’s own worries. Silver’s words, _It must be awful being you_ , had cut deep. He had shut himself off from Silver again rather than risk exposing more of himself. 

And—well, the entire business of the gold’s disappearance had only cemented Flint’s wariness of Silver. He had as good as told Flint they were allies insomuch as their goals were in line with one another. With the promise of riches now lost, Silver’s actions were unpredictable, even if Flint had sought to secure his role on the ship by reminding Silver of the sway he held among the men. _Where else would you wake up in the morning and matter? You walk out on this, and where the fuck are you going?_ Harsh words, but Flint had been desperate for Silver’s support. 

A small part of himself whispered he could have gotten Silver to agree to stay more readily if he had only been honest. If he'd told Silver he _needed_ him. For more than just aid in securing Nassau’s future. That a small, selfish, shameful part of him _wanted_ Silver, and wished to be wanted in return. 

But no, to admit that would be exposing too much of himself for Silver to exploit if he saw fit. To admit that would mean confronting the weight of guilt he'd felt ever since Miranda placed that book in front of him. It would mean admitting he could _feel_ for someone again, when he’d long thought that impossible. 

Now they were en route to Charlestown, Miranda and Abigail Ashe aboard, and Flint knew he would need all his focus for whatever they faced when they arrived, but he couldn’t shake this tension beneath his skin. 

“You could tell me, you know,” Miranda said, stepping alongside him by the ship’s rail on the aft deck. 

“Beg pardon?” Flint prompted. It was nearing dusk, the breeze that filled the sails growing cooler. 

“If, during these ten years, you had developed feelings for someone, you could tell me. I wouldn’t want you to remain unhappy, and I'm sure he would feel the same.”

“If _he_ was able to grant his opinion on the matter, we wouldn't be in this situation,” Flint said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his tone. He took a breath, relaxed his grip on the ship’s rail. “I apologize for that. There hasn’t been, though.”

Miranda turned her head to look at him, and he felt the weight of her perceptive gaze. “Hasn’t there? What about the cook?” 

It took Flint a split second longer than he would have liked to realize Miranda meant Silver. The man was such a terrible cook it was difficult to think of him actually carrying the title. “What about him?”

“You’ve never cared for ship’s gossip, yet every time he proclaims happenings-on about the ship, you’re watching him. When he spins a tale to the crew about the dangers posed in Charlestown to keep them vigilant, _you’re watching him_. You don’t observe anyone else on the crew as closely as you do him,” Miranda said. 

Flint felt that prickling of age-old fear, even as he knew Miranda wouldn’t judge him for it. Had anyone else among the crew noticed? Or were they too caught up in Silver’s stories themselves? “As you say, he has the ears of the crew. It would be remiss of me not to take notice of him.”

Miranda gave a gentle, knowing smile as she looked sidelong at him. “You do have a certain appreciation for elocutionists.” 

Flint frowned, the comparison between Thomas’ inspirational speeches and Silver’s yarns making his mind balk. “They aren’t anything alike.”

“Perhaps,” Miranda said. “You do know more of the man, after all. And there are plenty of obvious dissimilarities. Though perhaps you are too focused on those differences brought about by circumstance or upbringing, you have missed what is before you.”

“And what is that?”

Miranda reached over, placing her hand atop his. “No one should be alone, James, particularly not this isolation you have imposed upon yourself.”

Flint closed his eyes, breathing deep the sea air. As always, Miranda saw through to the core of him, past the layers he raised around himself. In that respect, she and Silver were almost alike, a thought which filled Flint with something that was not quite nervousness. 

“Even if what he felt—” Flint started, then cut himself off. It was too close to admitting his own feelings for Silver. “He has his own agenda. I cannot forget that.” 

From the look Miranda gave him, she had read between the lines of Flint’s interrupted comment. Her brows furrowed in concern. “You could say the same for yourself. How often do you keep things from your men out of self-preservation? Is it so unreasonable to expect others will do the same, if you don’t open up to them? Just...be kind to yourself, James. No man is an island.”

Flint remained at the rail as Miranda moved to join Abigail again. He knew there was truth to her words, even as he debated further with himself. The truth was, Silver hadn't sought him out directly in the days since they’d set sail again. There was a distance there between them, and Flint couldn’t determine if it went back to him pulling away after Silver called him _James_ , or if it was more recent.

And even if he were to seek out Silver’s company again before they reached Charlestown, even if Silver was amenable, where would they do it? He could hardly invite Silver to his cabin when he had guests aboard who slept in that very cabin. He wouldn't have it smelling of sex. 

Flint shook his head. He shouldn't even be considering this. This journey was dangerous enough without other distractions. Regardless of the truth to Miranda’s words, that didn’t eliminate the risks in pursuing a physical or emotional relationship with Silver. And yet—

And yet, then Flint remembered the way Silver had looked last time, right after he came. Their foreheads pressed together as they both panted, Flint feeling the aftershocks of Silver’s orgasm along his own cock, which had made a valiant effort to get hard again. Silver’s eyes, screwed shut in spite of Flint’s directive to watch him. Silver had blinked his eyes open, hazy with pleasure, and Flint…

Flint had felt himself falling, slowly pulled in by the depths of those eyes. It wasn't Silver’s submission or his compliance, it wasn't his looks, it was just... _him._ Silver himself, the way he'd slipped so effortlessly beneath Flint’s skin, and the realization that they could be part of each other’s worlds, if Silver wanted that and if Flint could open himself to another. _If_ he could open himself to another. Miranda's words echoed, replaying in his mind.

Flint looked down at the quarterdeck, where Silver was giving some sort of animated account. There was no denying his charm and ability to weave words to win people over, though Flint still shook his head at the comparison Miranda had made. Still, Flint had to admit Silver had won him over, which he never would have expected given where they started. Maybe...with what they would find in Charlestown uncertain, there would be no harm in indulging the both of them tonight, if that was something Silver wanted. 

Flint strode down the stairs, lingering beside the cannons. He knew he didn't need to engage Silver directly when he was in the middle of one of his stories. Just a weighted glance thrown his way, and Silver would approach when he was finished. 

“Yes, Captain?” Silver prompted, approaching him after the other men had dispersed to return to their duties. 

Flint felt a low curling of heat as he did whenever Silver used his title, even if the delivery had been neutral. “We’ll be reaching Charlestown in the next several days.” 

“I noticed, since you as good as promoted me to morale officer aboard the ship,” Silver said. There was the slightest trace of wariness in his tone, but he quirked an eyebrow. 

Inexplicably, Flint felt his pulse pounding erratically. It occurred to him the other times they'd done this, Silver had been the one to approach him. He hadn't approached Flint since the last time, but was that out of respect for the other things Flint was focused on, or because he no longer wanted Flint’s company?

“Some time ago I told you ‘until next time, Mr. Silver,’” Flint said. “That offer is on the table now, should you wish it.” 

The quirked smile on Silver’s lips faded, his eyes going wide as he swallowed. His pupils dilated, revealing his interest in the idea. “If I were amenable to that,” Silver said, after a drawn-out moment, “where would we meet? I'm assuming your quarters are out of the question.”

Flint considered this for a moment, his pulse picking up at the promise in Silver’s words. “The officers’ berths near the wardroom,” he suggested. “The aftmost berth, port side of the ship?” 

Silver bit briefly on his lip, a motion Flint couldn't fail to notice, near as he was. “I—yes, I'd like that,” he said. “Any, ah, particular requests?” 

Flint felt heat beneath his skin, that part of him that he's so long repressed marveling that he could indulge. That Silver was agreeing to this. That he was allowed to enjoy this. 

Flint looked to the hourglasses near the helmsman. “I'll be there at six bells in the first watch,” Flint said, then upon seeing Silver’s frown he clarified, “an hour before midnight. You may want to be there already when I arrive, and remove your garments.”

Flint smiled, seeing the look of unguarded want on Silver’s face as color rose in his cheeks. Flint clasped his hands behind his back, half-turning where he stood as if to leave, before leaning in again. His stance was conversational, but his voice was low when he spoke. “And don’t touch yourself while you wait for me,” Flint murmured. “I'll know if you do.”

There was no way he _could_ know, of course, but let Silver believe he had preternatural abilities in this matter. His smirk deepened seeing Silver’s reaction, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed and gave a shaky nod. Flint strode away, walking along the ship’s deck as he looked out across the gently rippling waters. 

He had a couple hours to pass before the designated rendezvous time, and he spent it taking his meal with Miranda and Abigail, ignoring all the while the furtive glances Silver threw his way. Then he took to his cabin, absently thumbing through the pages of a book.

His eyes fell on _Meditations_ , chest going tight at the sight of that familiar red leather cover. Miranda’s advice had been true, he knew that well enough. It wasn't fear of what Thomas would think that had kept him closed off all these years. Rather, the belief that deep down, he had squandered his one chance at happiness. His foolishness and naïveté had destroyed something pure and good, the sort of thing that only came along once in a lifetime. 

Once in James McGraw’s lifetime. If he were to open himself up again, he did so as James Flint. But did he want to potentially expose himself to that kind of pain again? Hadn’t he already begun that journey, intentionally or no?

Time trickled closer to their meeting, and whatever his reservations Flint would see this through. One more time, before whatever uncertainty the future held resolved itself. He rose from his seat, moving through the cabin to gather the things he would need. 

Silver was there waiting for him when Flint arrived at the designated officer’s berth. He went still, leaning back on the door until it latched shut as he took in the sight before him. 

Silver had had the foresight to bring a lamp with him—the soft yellow glow served to illuminate the small berth, which contained a wooden cot and palette as well as a small writing desk. Silver reclined on the mattress, already naked as requested, the lamp's glow gilding the planes of his musculature and casting his body in an almost ethereal relief. It was as if some classicist had made a bronze casting, _Adonis in Repose_ , and the awareness that Silver was here at _his_ request made Flint's throat go dry. 

Only Silver's countenance allowed any glimpse of the inner workings of his mind. There was almost a nervous self-consciousness written there, in spite of the flush on his cheeks and the obvious arousal of his body, as though he was unsure of where they stood with one another. This, Flint would concede—he'd hardly allowed Silver the opportunity for any firm standing around him. But it was something he wanted to offer some measure of reassurance on, before they continued. 

Flint approached Silver, lowering himself until he sat on the cot. "As with our other encounters, if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you have but to tell me to belay, and I will stop. You need not think such an invocation will put a permanent end to these meetings...unless that is something you wish.” 

“I do not wish that,” Silver said, his torso lifting until he was supported by his elbows. 

Flint closed his eyes a moment against the tempting curve of Silver’s body, too close and not near enough. It would be so easy to fall upon him, to disregard his original plan and let his mouth map the line of Silver’s neck. To embrace him, clinging to that closeness with another person such as he had not allowed himself since—

Flint took a breath. He would keep to his plan. It would be enough, for the coming days and to satisfy this need he felt in Silver’s presence. 

“I also want to make this clear to you,” Flint continued. “What we do is not a matter of whether or not your limits have been breached. This is a negotiation. If there is something you would like differently, you need only request it. I...I would not want you to think me cruel.” 

Contrary to what the rest of the world might believe of him, it was important to Flint in this moment that Silver understood that. He held Silver’s gaze, until Silver sat up fully and gave a sober nod. 

Flint reached down, where he’d set the canvas bag he had brought with him. Pulling the drawstring open, Flint drew out the bag’s contents one at a time, resting them on the side of the small desk. A bottle of oil, a handkerchief, and coils of soft rope. Silver tracked each movement with his eyes, but said nothing. 

Flint reached first for the handkerchief, holding it in his hands in both a question and an offering. He wanted to make it clear to Silver, that he would honor his wishes if this wasn’t something he wanted. In answer, Silver closed his eyes, bowing his head forward. 

Flint fought to keep his breathing steady against the sudden rush of heat through his body, upon seeing such a plain display of Silver’s submission. The level of trust he seemed to unconsciously extend. Flint only hoped he could prove worthy of that trust. He reached forward, wrapping the handkerchief around Silver’s head so the folded cloth lay across his eyes, blocking his vision. Silver let out a breath as Flint knotted the material snugly. 

Flint allowed himself to indulge a moment, tracing Silver’s cheekbone with the back of his finger until smooth skin met the shadow of stubble. It was easier to do this, when there was no risk of becoming caught by Silver’s gaze. Silver gave a small shudder, his mouth falling open. Flint felt his own heartbeat thudding erratically in his chest, and it took him a moment to realize his hand had stilled on Silver’s face. 

“Lay back on the mattress, hands above your head,” Flint said. Silver did, letting out a barely audible sigh as he did so. “Last time, you expressed an inclination to being tied down, and I gave you the impression I might do so in the future,” Flint continued, setting a hand on Silver’s elbow and gliding it up to his wrist. He circled that wrist in a loose hold, a tease of pressure. “Is that something you would still like?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Silver breathed. The want in his tone was evident, and from the vantage point braced over him Flint could see his cock—his erection had flagged somewhat in the last few minutes—swelling anew against his stomach. 

Flint released his hold on Silver to reach for a coil of rope, unwinding it and letting the length of it drape across his lap. Years of learning sailors’ knots were put to use as Flint looped the rope in a simple hitch which he secured around Silver’s wrist, checking to ensure the loop would not tighten as he struggled, before doing the same to the other wrist. Flint spared a moment of wry gratification at the use those sailors’ knots were being put to now, as he threaded the extra length of rope through a ring bolted into the wall. Silver drew in a breath as the final knot was tied, effectively securing him to the wall. 

Silver seemed to shudder slightly, then he went still with a strange calm. As though it gave him some relief, being bound as he was. Flint’s mind skittered over the implications of that, as he smoothed his hand down Silver's arm again, across his chest, to stroke gently at the hollow of his throat. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath Flint’s hand. 

“You'll let me know immediately if the ropes become too much,” Flint commanded. He would not leave this to chance, or any thought of Silver trying to push his own limits past the bounds of his comfort. “Any irregular numbness or tingling, any hint of circulation troubles, you tell me. Understood?” 

“Understood, Captain,” Silver said, arching his chest upwards as he tested the bonds. He let out a gratified sigh, sagging once more against the bed, and it took all Flint’s will not act on the impulses that seemed to clamor in his mind. The entire point of this was to prolong the experience, to _savor_ it, and he could not do that if he gave into immediate desires like the part of him that wanted to fall upon Silver's willing body, kiss and suck at every inch of exposed skin, bring them both to completion in a hurried rush. 

In truth, Flint’s reasons for the blindfold had been in part selfishly motivated. He wanted to take his time, to look upon Silver and touch him, without feeling he was revealing too much of himself. The blindfold gave him that liberty, and Flint had surmised from their past encounters that it would be something Silver enjoyed, in any case. Flint shifted back on the cot, letting his hand trail across Silver’s skin in a light contact he knew would be magnified by the blindfold. 

Silver gasped, hitching his hips to encourage Flint’s hand elsewhere. Flint ignored the hint, though he could not help smiling at it, moving instead to caress Silver’s leg as he reached for another rope. Silver went still at the rope’s touch, almost trembling with a nervous sort of tension, and Flint looked up his body to his face once more, expecting to see Silver’s brows knitted in worry. Instead, Silver’s cheeks were flushed, his mouth open as he breathed heavily. The lower lip was swollen where he had bitten it, and even with the blindfold covering his eyes, it was difficult to take the expression on his face for anything other than ecstasy. It wasn’t nervousness that had him trembling—it was eagerness. 

“Please,” Silver murmured, and Flint realised he hadn’t moved for some time, too caught in staring. Hearing the desperate note in Silver’s tone, however, he turned back to the task at hand, tying the rope down to Silver’s ankle with the same hitch he’d used on his wrists, before anchoring the other end to the corner of the cot. He did the same for the other leg on another corner. There was some slack in all the ropes, allowing Silver to bend his elbows and knees to some degree, but he could not escape his bindings. 

Silver tested those limits now, tugging against the bonds and checking their strength. “Oh,” Silver uttered, like it was a revelation. Like he had just discovered something so much more than the restraints, and Flint wondered if this was the first time Silver had ever done this. “Oh,” Silver murmured again, “ _Fuck_.” He groaned at the resistance he met, sprawling on the cot once more, his chest heaving as he panted. Flint could see the effects of his work already; Silver’s cock was flushed and leaking against his stomach. 

Flint, for his part, was too awed by Silver’s responsiveness already. It had only been several minutes and Silver was half undone. Imagine what he could do to Silver with hours at his disposal. They didn't have the leisure or the resources at hand at the moment, but Flint could well envision the myriad ways he would enjoy taking Silver apart. He ran his hands up Silver's legs, pressing calloused thumbs against Silver's inner thighs and relishing the sounds that sprung from Silver's lips. He could imagine teasing Silver slowly, fucking him open with his fingers until Silver was begging for his cock, but then instead using a dildo on him. Teasing him with that sense of fullness, similar to but not quite what he needed, all while Silver was blindfolded and bound. 

But now that he had Silver like this, Flint found that wasn't what he wanted most. Not even his original plan, to tie Silver down and fuck him slowly, felt like it would be _enough_ to satisfy this need. No, what he wanted right now was Silver’s cock. Flint reached for it, cradling it in a loose hold as he got a feel for its length and girth, while Silver let out a soft whimper. He hadn't touched it, the last time, and the first time they'd fucked he'd only barely gotten his hand on it before Silver had reached his culmination. Now though...Flint’s mouth watered as he imagined the weight of it on his tongue. It had been so long since he'd had another man’s cock in his mouth. So long since—

Flint’s hand stilled, and Silver let out a frustrated whine. Flint ignored it, reaching instead for the bottle of oil he'd brought. Now that the thought had entered his mind, he knew _this_ was what he wanted. This is what would satisfy the thrumming need beneath his skin. 

It occurred to Flint, as he removed his garments one at a time, that this was the first time he would be naked in Silver’s presence. That had been a deliberate move on Flint’s part during their past encounters, out of a desire to keep parts of himself walled off, in both the figurative and literal sense. Another thing made easier by the blindfold over Silver’s eyes, Flint thought, as he removed the last of his clothes. Though he wondered if Miranda's talk didn't also have something to do with it. 

At first, Silver only fidgeted at the lengthy absence of Flint’s touch. As the reason for that delay became apparent, he let out a sudden rush of breath, cheeks coloring a deeper red. “Are...are you…?”

Flint could only grunt in reply, his body contorted as he pressed the slickened finger deeper into his own body. He halted a moment, breathing through his nose as he adjusted to the stretch. After so many years, his body was no longer accustomed to that sort of intrusion, and he fought the inclination to withdraw. 

The muscle memory of that sensation returned, however, and Flint steadied his breathing as he rocked back onto his finger, the passage becoming easier with each thrust. Flint panted, halting to pour more oil on his hand, before he was moving back to press two into his body. _Christ_ , but the angle on this was so much easier when he was doing it to Silver. 

Silver. Flint opened his eyes, not realizing he had shut them as he fingered himself, to look upon Silver once more. Silver, who was writhing against his bonds, not truly struggling, but shifting impatiently from the noises Flint had been making. He was beautiful in the lantern light, trembling from the anticipation, body covered in a sheen of sweat. The precome leaking from his cock was slick and shiny against his belly. Flint groaned, leaning forward to lap at that slickness before thrusting a third finger inside himself. 

Silver cried out at the touch of Flint's tongue, so near his actual cock. 

"Here is what is going to happen," Flint said. He took a breath to compose himself further, as his own need and desperation had made his voice sound ragged. "I am going to ride you, and you are going to lay here while I fuck myself. I do not want you coming until after I have, is that understood?" 

Silver whimpered, then nodded his head. " _Yes_ , Captain."

Flint withdrew his fingers, pausing to wipe them on the corner of a blanket. He straddled Silver, taking a moment to gain his bearings against a sudden feeling of lightheadedness at the significance of this moment. He utilized the oil bottle a final time to lubricate Silver's cock, then positioned it against him. 

Flint needed another moment to regulate his breathing—it was so much _bigger_ than the stretch of his fingers could prepare him for—before he bore down. He sank back by slow degrees, thighs trembling from the strain. The keening sound emitted from his throat was unbidden and echoed by Silver, who strained against the ropes. Finally, Flint was fully seated, a sensation of stretched fullness within him that he had almost forgotten. 

" _Oh_ ," Flint groaned. He stilled, so he could savor that fullness. 

"I—" Silver stammered. It seemed for a moment the thought would remain interrupted, as his throat worked unintelligible sounds while his mouth gaped. He seemed to find his voice as spoke again, tentatively, "James, please...can I see you?" 

Flint's breath caught in his throat, a long-familiar panic creeping at the edge of his senses. He worried at what Silver might see, he who had so effortlessly seen past Flint's defenses even when he strove to keep the world at bay. It wasn't just his nudity, or this current state of vulnerability; Silver had an uncanny knack of seeing right to the heart of him. 

But then, hadn't Silver shown his vulnerabilities to Flint? This power exchange was a willing one, but at present it was clearly skewed to one side. And Flint had told him when they began this tonight, _If there is something you would like differently, you need only request it._

And perhaps the true reason, beyond the petty excuses and worries, was the way Silver had asked, a tender vulnerability apparent in the request. Flint knew he could not bring himself to deny that. 

Flint leaned down, reaching for the edge of the blindfold to tug it upwards until Silver was blinking at him, his blue eyes dilated wide and hazy. There was an honest surprise written there, replaced a moment later by pleasure as Flint sat upright and began to _move_.

_“Jesus,”_ Silver gritted out, and Flint was already too lost in his own pleasure to remark upon the blasphemy. 

Flint rose, using his thighs as leverage as he raised himself until just the head of Silver's cock was within him, before sinking back again. It was a delicious glide of friction, his body remembering the rhythm quickly as he rocked himself up and down. His own desire had slackened while he fingered himself, but as Silver's cock within him began alighting along sensitive nerves, it quickly grew to full hardness again. _Fuck_ , he’d forgotten this, how good it could feel. The position allowed him to control the pace, but there was only so much he could work against gravity as Silver’s cock drove deeply into him. He groaned openly, fucking himself harder. 

Silver’s eyes traveled the length of Flint’s torso—from his cock which bobbed every time Flint rocked upwards again, up his chest and neck, until finally settling on Flint’s face. 

“ _God_ , you’re beautiful,” Silver said breathlessly. 

Flint faltered in his rhythm, breath catching in his throat. There was awe written on Silver’s features, awe and hunger and something else underlying it, something which Flint felt sure was reflected in his own eyes. He shied away from it, cursing as he clenched down on Silver and rode him harder. It was too much...but not enough. If he could just _focus_ , for just a little while longer. He just needed—

“Fuck, _Captain_ ,” Silver cried out, frantic. “I’m close, I’m—”

Silver went suddenly tense, and Flint could _feel_ it within him, the hot pulse of Silver’s cock as he came. Flint stilled, his body trembling at the intimacy and closeness of that feeling, as tears unwittingly welled at the corners of his eyes. He could only look down at the place where their bodies joined, feeling that slickness but not yet ready to extricate himself. Below him, Silver’s abdomen quavered, and Flint realized, distantly, that Silver was speaking in panicked tones.

“—’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You told me not to come until after you did, but I just—”

“John.” Flint’s utterance of his name cut off Silver’s stammering. He couldn’t look up, feeling too much like his center of gravity was shifting. His heart was racing and it was a struggle to steady his breathing. He _felt_ too much, he _wanted_ too much. 

Silver seemed to gather himself, trying again. “Please don’t be angry. You...you can spank me, if you want.”

Flint looked up, brows furrowed. “Is that what you want? Punishment for disobeying an order?” 

Silver shuddered beneath him, breathing heavily. “Yes,” he said. “Anything.” 

Flint could only stare for a moment. There was something almost fearful in Silver’s eyes, but it wasn’t fear of Flint. Part of Flint’s mind balked. _Why_ ask for punishment? He could feel himself slipping, however, that strange axis-tipping feeling that left him off-balanced the longer he looked into the depths of Silver’s eyes. A few moments more, and he was sure all his defenses would crumble. This, at least, offered him the opportunity to get back some semblance of control over the situation. 

Flint closed his eyes briefly, taking a steady breath as he composed himself. Finally, he spoke, “Due to your haste, my own need has not yet been met. I think it only fair that any punishment resolve that.” 

Silver nodded quickly. _Eagerly_. Flint shifted upwards, until Silver’s cock slipped free of him, then moved forward on the mattress until he straddled Silver’s upper torso. He reached down, picking up the discarded blindfold and pressing the rumpled cloth into one of Silver’s bound hands.

“I am going to fuck your mouth,” Flint said, watching Silver’s face for any sign of reticence or hesitation. “If you need to belay, release that cloth in your hand.”

Silver nodded again, eyes wide. “Yes, Captain,” he murmured. That look of hunger had returned, and his lips parted invitingly. 

Flint cupped the back of Silver’s head, using his other hand to guide his cock forward. Silver’s eyes fluttered shut and he moaned aloud as Flint’s cock passed his lips. The vibration caused by the sound had Flint cursing, and he gave a shallow thrust of his hips. Silver’s jaw slackened, tongue pressing up as Flint’s cock disappeared past his lips. Flint resisted the impulse to shut his own eyes, too fixed on keeping Silver’s hands in his periphery vision, in case Silver released the cloth. 

There seemed to be no signs of that happening, as Silver gave a contented groan around him. Flint drew back and thrust forward again, using the hand on Silver’s head to control the depth of his thrusts and ensure the angle would not be too painful. He settled into a steady rhythm, rolling his hips forward into Silver’s eager mouth. 

Silver swallowed around him, his eyes going hazy with blissful pleasure. Flint’s pulse pounded in his ears. It was the same look on Silver’s face after Flint had spanked him, when Silver had been pliant and vulnerable and open, and Flint had asked him, softly, _Are you still with me?_ It was the same look on his face from the last time, when they’d been pressed together, foreheads touching, and Silver had opened his eyes and Flint had felt himself falling. 

He felt like he was falling now.

Silver hadn’t been feared of him, a moment ago. He had been fearful he would lose _this_. A quick glance upward, and Flint saw the cloth blindfold was still clenched tightly in Silver’s hand. _Anything_ , Silver had said. Was it possible, this part of Flint that so desperately sought out connection with another person—that Silver felt the same? That he was reaching out in the only way he knew how...or the only way he thought would be welcome? 

Flint drew in a sharp breath, pulling back just as his orgasm hit. He came in hot pulses, covering Silver’s face with his release. Silver gasped, mouth open as some of it landed on his tongue. 

“I’m sorry,” Flint said, both for the mess he’d just made and as the consequences of his behavior these last weeks finally hit him. “John, I’m so sorry.” 

But Silver was closing his mouth, as if to savor the lingering taste. His tongue was darting out to catch whatever it could reach. His eyes were opening, shiny and bright with an expression of near rapture. 

It was too much for Flint. Falling was not the right word for it; he was utterly undone. Flint moved back, placing himself beside Silver on the mattress and leaning down. He took the cloth from Silver’s hand, using it to wipe away the mess on his face, all the while murmuring apologies and John’s name like an incantation. Flint’s hand followed the cloth, smoothing Silver’s hair back where sweat had made it stick to his face. 

Silver blinked, looking up at him. There was something intimately vulnerable in those eyes, a question he couldn’t put words to. Flint was unsure if he would be able to vocalize an answer, in any case. Only a few scant inches separated their faces, and Flint wondered that the distance had seemed so insurmountable before. He closed that distance now, angling his face as he leaned down to kiss Silver’s mouth. 

Silver went still for the briefest of moments before he returned the kiss with fervor, mouth warm and animated beneath Flint’s. When Silver sighed against his lips, there was a note of relief in it, and Flint kissed him all the more deeply in apology. He tried to say with the drag and press of lips what he hadn’t been able to say with words, and when Silver’s mouth opened against his, it felt like he understood. 

Flint pulled back slowly, not wanting to break the kiss but needing to focus his attention on the ropes for a moment. Silver’s look of confusion became immediately one of comprehension as Flint carefully undid all the knots securing his wrists and ankles. As each limb was freed, Flint took a moment to massage the skin, ensuring no abrasions or bruising had occurred. There was some redness, but it would likely fade in a day or so. Flint pressed his lips to each of the faint marks in turn. 

All of this Silver underwent in uncustomary silence, a look of cautious amazement on his face, and Flint couldn’t help but know it was due to this behavior being so far outside the norm of their other encounters. Guilt nagged at him for the way he had acted in the past, as he recalled the look of confusion and vulnerability he’d seen on Silver’s face last time. 

But now, it was as if the floodgates had opened. As if, having allowed himself to finally bridge that final distance, Flint couldn’t seem to get enough. Silver reached for him, and with that tacit permission Flint fell into his arms. Something slotted into place, and Flint understood truly what he’d been missing all these long years. He pulled Silver close to him, their limbs tangling, and the hollow ache that Flint had long since grown accustomed to seemed...fuller, somehow. He pressed a kiss to Silver’s forehead, the magnitude of this moment making him tremble, though he felt no chill. 

“ _James_ ,” Silver murmured, and Flint felt no compulsion to flee. 

How long they lay there like that, Flint wasn’t sure. He heard the distant toll of bells that signalled another watch ended, but hadn’t thought to count their number. Silver shifted in his arms, but he was just adjusting his position so he could move closer. He angled his head up to kiss along Flint’s jaw, and Flint let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, marveling that such an act could feel more intimate than any of the number of things they’d done. He met Silver’s lips again, losing himself in languid kisses. 

“What happens now?” Silver asked, some time later. 

Flint shifted until he could better see Silver’s face.

“In a few days we will reach Charlestown,” Flint said. “I have no notion of what to expect there, beyond my hoped-for result. If _that_ happens...I may not be a pirate much longer.”

His eyes had drifted to Silver’s curls, and he caught a ringlet on his finger, winding it slowly to avoid looking into Silver’s eyes. There was a lump in his throat as he thought of the coming days and what he hoped to achieve. He had been chasing this dream for so long, he had never imagined he might see it come to fruition. The idea that Silver would even want to remain with him beyond that was something he hardly dared dream of. 

Still, Flint ventured on carefully, “I...I know you said you do not care for the seafaring life, or the uncertainty that comes with it. Depending how things go...that is—”

“Are you asking me to stay with you?” Silver asked, something like astonishment in his tone.

Flint met his eyes again. There was a conflict of emotion on Silver’s face that he couldn’t place, which he supposed was warranted, given the cold way Flint had treated him following their past couplings. “I am. Though you do not have to answer me now. As I said, so much in Charlestown remains uncertain.”

“And...if things do not turn out as you hope in Charlestown?” 

Flint searched Silver’s face. That conflict he’d noted was still there, and it pained him, though he would not pry. What little glimpses he knew of Silver’s past were reason enough to know Silver would hesitate to commit himself in so final a manner. The only thing he could do, then, was ensure Silver knew he would be received well, whatever happened.

“If that happens, you will still be welcome. In whatever capacity you choose.” 

Silver nodded, and some of the tension seemed to ease from his face, though traces of worry remained. Whether that was from some personal matter or what they would all face in a few days, Flint didn’t know. He let out a soft exhale, staring at the overhead beams and wishing he had more information to help guide him through whatever he might meet in the coming days. 

“Stay with me for a while longer?” Silver asked.

A smile tugged at Flint’s mouth. Miranda would understand, and he was sure Abigail would sleep more soundly without him in the large cabin above. “I can stay until morning, if you like,” he said. 


End file.
